


Still Waters

by Vintage_lover_who



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Dreams, Badass Chiyoh, Confused Will, First Kiss, Fluff, Hopefully not terribly OOC, Hurt Hannibal, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Season/Series Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 19:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5511062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vintage_lover_who/pseuds/Vintage_lover_who
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will never intended to survive the fall. Neither did he expect the adaptation the aftermath would implicate, especially when living with a sophisticated cannibal and his feelings for him.</p>
<p>Entry for 2015 Hannigram Holiday Exchange. Present for tonberriesandcream</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Waters

**Author's Note:**

> The day is finally here! And I'm terribly excited for my first Hannigram Holiday Exchange.  
> This was supposed to focus on some of Mads' declarations about Hannibal and Will laying low for a while and maybe getting a dog. I tried to explore a bit of the domesticity (which I believe would've been complicated at the beginning) and also some of the contrast between normalcy and the relationship between these two, which is everything but conventional.
> 
> Here's a link to a mix for this fic: http://8tracks.com/whatshisnamemoriarty/still-waters-a-hannibal-fanmix-for-tonberriesandcream  
> Enjoy!

_I had a dream where I was falling; over and over again, an endless fall that haunted me whenever I closed my eyes. Raging winds brutalised my wounds like daggers, the deafening sound of the tides filling my ears, hurting them. I have no anchor, no safety net._

_I_ _’_ _m not afraid of dying. I just want the pain to stop, the endless fall to come to an end but it just never does, so I remain in that disgusting sensation that usually assaults people right before they fall asleep and that startles them. I stay in such a state for the longest of time spans, the pit in my stomach not receding and the wind still roaring in my ears. There_ _’_ _s no certainty, there_ _’_ _s no escape. I_ _’_ _m all alone._

*****************

Will woke up startled and sweating, his breathing ragged. He looked around, taking in the room he was in and slowly starting to recognise the place that was gradually becoming more and more familiar. The blinds on his window were drawn, yet he could see the faint light of dawn entering through a small crack. He suddenly became aware of the sound of running water, and soon of the abrupt lack of it.

Not 2 minutes later, Hannibal was at his door, a towel around his waist, hair and chest wet from the shower.

“Another nightmare?” asked the tall man, looking curiously at him.

Will nodded in response.

“The fall again?”

The question was acknowledged with another nod, after which Hannibal left the room but not without glancing back at Will one last time. Will took a few more breaths to stabilise himself before pushing the covers aside and heading to his own bathroom.

He turned on the water and waited for it to reach an acceptable temperature. Once inside the shower, Will started rinsing himself slowly, letting the water wash away the nightmare and allowing his brain to start its own musings.

It was impressive how easy it had been, to be honest. Will still remembered those first few weeks after moving together with Molly: the novelty of it, the newly discovered quirks, the need for adjustments to such findings…

It hadn’t been necessarily hard but it hadn’t been _that_ easy, either. And it made Will angry that falling into normality with someone else was impressively effortless, especially considering who he was referring to. It was also impressive in view of how often they disagreed.

Wil stirred his coffee while sitting at the breakfast bar. Hannibal had insisted on making fresh orange juice so there he was, squeezing oranges into the juice extractor by the sink just as if nothing happened, as if there weren’t thousands of things to consider or worry about.

“I can’t believe how easily you’re taking this”, interjected Will, provoking Hannibal to glance at him, his hands still on his task.

“How would you rather me taking it, Will? I’m afraid I had never considered a near-death experience by falling off a cliff as a valid scenario to fret over”.

Will couldn’t help but snort. “I just find it funny how you expect everything to magically go back to normal as long as you stay in the kitchen”.

“That’s where you’re wrong”, started Hannibal. “I don’t expect anything at the moment, aside from a glass of orange juice”.

Will grasped his mug tighter right before downing the rest of it in one gulp. He could hardly stand to be inside that kitchen any longer, especially with Hannibal in such a cynical mood, so he placed the mug in the sink and excused himself as he headed to the door, grabbing his coat on the way out.

Hannibal remained at the counter, squeezing the last oranges with a little more strength than was required. By the time Will closed the door behind him, he was already deep inside his mind palace.

*******************

The air around the small cottage was cold but bearable. Snow wouldn’t fall for a few more weeks, but the atmosphere already felt wintery.

Will let his feet lead the way to the small stream that passed behind the house, right after entering the woods. The former profiler kneeled beside it and dipped his hand in. He knew he couldn’t hide from Hannibal forever, and that he would eventually run out of pretexts to justify his daily escapades –although he hardly felt the need to-, but at the moment, the quiet of the woods was a much needed refuge.

It had been precisely 2 weeks and 2 days since The Fall, the one supposed to kill him along with the person he most feared and admired at the same time. Looking back on it, he couldn’t fathom how he thought it would work; Hannibal always got what he wanted, one way or another, and if he was determined to make the both of them live, well then who was Will to stop him?

Throughout the years since meeting him, Hannibal had proven how resourceful he was and to which extent he could control Will’s life and the fate of the people around him. It was naïve of him to think he could somehow escape that grasp, the one of a stubborn and whimsical god.

But at the same time, that train of thought felt a little disheartened. Will’s resentment towards Hannibal –if there ever was a real one- had reduced itself to a muted wariness at the back of his mind. He was angrier with himself for everything; for lowering his guard, for doubting of himself, for letting _him_ get caught, for not running away with _him_ when he had his first chance.

Will sat heavily against a tree as he considered for the umpteenth time where would they be if he had taken Hannibal’s offer on that fatidic night years ago. How old would Abigail be? He knew that already, he thought of that almost on a daily basis. Where would they live? Probably in Europe since Hannibal was so fond of it. How would their lives be like? How would they _hunt_?

A cold shiver ran down Will’s spine. The Fall wasn’t the only image that haunted him, and asking those question wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Still, he couldn’t help but turn that last question over in his mind, a question that had recently consumed his subconscious just as much as his waking thoughts.

******************

_Sunlight came in through the windows in soft accents, giving the place an ethereal aspect. The atmosphere was warm and somewhat peaceful inside the empty Norman chapel in Palermo. The iconic skull that dominated the space before the stairs was darkened since the position of the sun prevented its light from reaching it._

_Will and Hannibal sat side by side, one the perfectly mirrored image of the other. The sunrays bathed Will_ _’_ _s blue-grey suit; the colour unequivocally resembled that of the roaring sea on a deep night. Hannibal_ _’_ _s own could easily bring to mind the image of pale moonlight._

_They didn_ _’_ _t speak, didn_ _’_ _t even glance at each other. Will_ _’_ _s eyes were closed and Hannibal couldn_ _’_ _t resist taking a look at him. He seemed peaceful, untroubled by all the nightmares and doubts that haunted him on a daily basis. That was how Hannibal enjoyed seeing him the most, no frown lines, unmarred by an unworthy dragon and safe inside his mind palace._

_“_ _What_ _’_ _s going through your mind?_ _”_ _asked Will without opening his eyes._

_Hannibal hesitated._ _“_ _For years, all I had ever wanted was for you to see me clearly enough that when you looked back at me, it would be all of my being you were marvelled with and not just half of it. Still, now that I have you, I don_ _’_ _t know what to do with you_ _”_ _._

_Will smiled knowingly._ _“_ _When have you ever known?_ _”_

_Hannibal returned the smile._ _“_ _It_ _’_ _s true I_ _’_ _ve never been able to fully predict you, but I_ _’_ _m past that need for control. Now I just wished I knew how to make you happy_ _”_ _._

_That made Will open his eyes._

_“_ _You do make me happy, but all these changes aren_ _’_ _t easy for either of us_ _”._

_“_ _You refuse to fully embrace your nature and I am determined not to modify mine, at least not radically_ _”,_ _pondered Hannibal._ _“_ _Do you think there_ _’_ _ll come a time in which we can reach Aristotle_ _’_ _s desirable middle?_ _”_

_“_ _I am certain of it. You just need to remind me from time to time why I made that choice the night of the cliff_ _”_ _._

_And with that, Will closed his eyes again and so did Hannibal._

****************

It was already evening when Will entered the sitting room with his customary cup of coffee in hand and sat across from Hannibal, who was reading by the fireplace, the leather of his armchair reflecting both the light from the flames and that from the small reading lamp beside it. The empath’s fingers drummed a distracted tune against the mug as he stared at the fire.

Hannibal closed his book soundlessly, waiting for the other to speak; after all, it had been Will who kept on leaving the house on a daily basis to find something to do in the woods. Still, he seemed adamant on remaining silent, disposition against which Hannibal was determined to react.

“It’s ironic how much time I spend with you in my mind palace these days, considering we share the same living space”.

“Well, I certainly don’t blame you. I become awful company when I don’t sleep well”.

“If the Fall still haunts you so insistently, there must be a deeper meaning to it than the mere shock of it”, indicated Hannibal.

“Oh, are we back to patient-psychiatrist mode now?”

“I’m simply pointing out what may be the true nature behind your nightmares and therefore, a way to tackle them”, replied Hannibal in a composed manner. “I’m concerned about you”.

“Yeah, then maybe you should stop _concerning_ ”, air-quoted Will as he stood up from his seat. He needed something to occupy his body with and pacing seemed like the best option at the moment.

“You tried to kill us both”, Hannibal continued as if Will hadn’t said anything. “That was your first impulse but then you changed your mind. Why?”

“I don’t know”, admitted Will.

“I disagree. You had the chance to let me die but you didn’t”.

“Chiyoh wouldn’t have let me-”

“She had no reason to stop you”.

“You wouldn’t have made it that easy”, retorted Will in an attempt to prove the point he had reflected on while at the stream.

“I did, Will. I let you throw us both from that cliff knowing what it would mean. What was the purpose of that? What did you want?” pushed Hannibal.

“I didn’t know what I wanted!”

“And yet you saved me”.

Hannibal looked straight into Will’s eyes. The younger man’s chest was heaving, his eyes wide, just like when he woke up from nightmares; it was clear he wasn’t ready to be having this conversation, but just when Hannibal was considering letting it go, Will approached him slowly, invading his personal space with every stride and leaning against Hannibal’s armchair, face levelled with his.

“I’ve fought all of my life not to become what you are, what you want me to be”, said Will in a low voice.

“And what would that be?”

_A murderer, a cannibal_ , Will wanted to answer but somehow none of those terms seemed appropriate. He knew they didn’t describe Hannibal in his entirety and he also knew that they weren’t enough to express Hannibal’s ambitions regarding him, so Will settled for silence as a response. Hannibal’s eyes hadn’t left his when he spoke again.

“I’ve never wanted you to be anything but yourself, Will. After all, that’s what drew me towards you in the first place”.

_The mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself, not the worst of someone else_. A distant echo reverberated in Will’s mind, causing his chest to tighten and he retreated.

“I’m not sure if I know exactly who you are”, intoned Will, knowing he was lying. “Or rather, I don’t know if I can cope with the knowledge of who you truly are”.

Hannibal shifted in his seat. He knew Will hadn’t meant that but it did nothing to attenuate the emotions his words provoked. Although his face was impassive, he had to focus on the fireplace before speaking.

“You’re asking me to relinquish a part of myself I’ve never expected you to change, Will. I saw you for who you truly were since the beginning and I embraced it”, said Hannibal, before turning his gaze back on the man in front of him. “Will you ever give me the same concession?”

Will stared into Hannibal’s eyes, and hesitated before the realisation that they looked much like the night they had slayed the Dragon together. He had attributed that look to the bloodlust, the devotion and the pride in it to the recent performance and the rest of the emotions he couldn’t quite name to the whole of the present circumstances. But to see that same look now, in a completely different environment was something he was definitely not expecting.

“Excuse me”, murmured Will for the second time that day and exited the sitting room, heading to his own chambers and closing the door behind him.

Inside, he let himself slide to the floor, covering his eyes with one hand. He knew Hannibal had a point; he knew he had lied but there was still something inside of him that refused to simply _accept_ everything that was happening.

There was no denying that Hannibal was a predator and yet he had let Will get close, let him adapt to their new proximity at his own pace; hell, he had even let him throw them both off a cliff. He had never recognised Will as anything but his equal. Wasn’t it time Will started doing the same thing in return?

However, it wasn’t just gratitude that drove Will’s actions. His mind wandered back to the night Dollarhyde was killed and he focused on his own motivations. He’d been prepared to die because that moment had been the most ecstatic of his life; he felt complete, seen, _loved_. And he had been afraid of not being able to find another moment more perfect than the present, so he jumped, knowing that the impact with the sea couldn’t be as bad as his recent revelation.

Slowly, Will stripped to his underwear, ready to get into bed. He was exhausted and there was little else he could do at the moment, but before placing his head on the pillow, he got up one last time to leave the door to his room open.

******************

_It was the cold that woke him up; not the pain, not the impact, the cold. Sometime along their descent, he had lost consciousness but he couldn_ _’_ _t tell if it had been minutes or just a couple of seconds._

_He could hardly explain how he managed to find his way up in the middle of the night, and when he finally emerged to the surface, his lungs burnt. He looked around, eyes wide, survival mode on but of a different nature from the one displayed on the cliff against Dollarhyde. That had been protection._

_Around him, everything looked identical; the same menacing rocks, the same ferocious ocean, the same immeasurable sky. There was no way to orient oneself and there was also no sign of_ him. _For a moment, he allowed panic to grip him tighter._

_He knew he couldn_ _’_ _t get that close to the rocks in fear of being smashed against them by the sea, but he couldn_ _’_ _t lose sight of them either if he expected to get to dry land. Slowly, he started swimming, the burning in his lungs intensifying due to a more forceful breathing pattern._

_Tears ran down his face and mixed with the salty sea water. Confusion was all he could muster at the moment before desperation started spreading through him._

_And just when faith was almost completely consumed, he saw_ him _, floating dangerously close to a crag. He swam as quickly as his numbed limbs allowed him to and once he was near enough, he pulled_ him _by the jumper_ _’_ _s collar and tried to get them both as far from the rocks as possible, continuing his search for land._

_Both his right cheek and his shoulder ached, yet he kept holding the unconscious body tight. He followed the cliffs uncertainly with as much light as the moon provided but he was growing more and more tired._

_Suddenly, the burning of his lungs was so strong he decided to rest for a while, just a few seconds. The freezing water had started to take its toll on him and he could barely feel his legs, which he still stubbornly moved in order to keep them afloat._

_He was fighting for consciousness when the sound of a distant motor alerted him. He first dismissed it but as the sound grew more insistent, so did his fear; after all, he didn_ _’_ _t know who was controlling it._

_He desperately looked for a place to hide but there was none and for the sound of it, the boat was almost upon them. He then took a deep breath and prepared for submersion._

_The water had just covered their heads when he felt a tug against his left shoulder and then a strong pull, dragging them both to the surface. He kicked and fought but the pull was too strong and then a pair of hands grabbed his sides and pulled him on board. The offending instrument that had seized him while inside the water, a big metal hook, now hung over his head, moving along with the whole ship, that he now realised was a fishing boat._

_He quickly crouched and assumed a defensive position even while coughing. He was getting ready to give as much of a fight as he could with tired, numb limbs when he realised he knew the face before him. It wasn_ _’_ _t a threatening one, at least not completely._

_The woman stood before him, arms crossed,_ him _at her feet and for a moment he felt a pang of anger at the sight. When she didn_ _’_ _t make a move to approach him, he crouched again, this time at_ his _side and started checking for a way to reanimate him and treat his injuries._

_He started massaging_ his _chest until he managed to make_ him _cough and expel some of the water in_ his _lungs_ , _but due to the important blood loss suffered,_ he _turned on his side and quickly returned to unconsciousness._

_He hadn_ _’_ _t noticed the woman had gone inside a small booth to produce a medical kit until she was back and handing it to him, helping with the removal of the soaked jumper. He had questions but the burning in his lungs was excruciating, so he hoped to convey them with his expression._

_“_ _I was watching, all of it. From the moment I found out about your plan, and I have very good sources, I was ready. He knew he would need me_ _”_ _._

_The anger returned as did his voice._ _“_ _Well, you could_ _’_ _ve come earlier_ _”_ _._

_“_ _I know, but I was interested on the turn events would take. I wondered how many bodies I would have to tow out of the water_ _”_ _._

_She sounded completely unaffected and he couldn_ _’_ _t help but shudder, before concentrating in the task at hand. Suddenly, he was back to a small kitchen in Minnesota, with a blue-eyed girl bleeding out on the floor, the feeling of helplessness tugging at his every fibre._

_“_ _He_ _’_ _s still got a pulse, if that_ _’_ _s what you_ _’_ _re worried about_ _”_ _, she said, but he could barely listen to her over the sound of the sea hitting the boat and his own heartbeat._

_They managed to clean the wound and bandage it at best as they could in order to prevent infection and to stop the bleeding. He then placed an arm under_ him _, his lead being followed by her and they both carried the body into the booth._

_The place wasn_ _’_ _t too big. It had enough space to accommodate the boat controls and the steering wheel at the front, a bed at the back and a couple of chairs in the middle. They placed_ him _on the bed after removing as many of the wet clothes as they could and she promptly went back to the control panel. He collapsed on a chair, all energy drained._

_“_ _You also have wounds to tend to_ _”_ _, said the woman without turning from the road ahead._

_He kept on panting as he dismissed the comment with a movement of the hand. He knew he needed attention but he just couldn_ _’_ _t bring himself to care._

_“_ _You should at least have that cheek bandaged_ _”_ _, she insisted._

_“_ _Where are you taking us?_ _”_ _he inquired, changing the subject._

_“_ _To as safe a place as possible_ _”_ _._

_The answer had been ambiguous but he didn_ _’_ _t feel like questioning it any further. He was now shivering violently and although he had survived the cliff and the sea, he wasn_ _’_ _t as certain he would survive this time. He tried to rise from his chair but he only managed to fall down over the floor boarding._

_He slowly crawled towards the bed, pressing himself against the wall near the headboard and removing his shirt. The shivering hadn_ _’_ _t stopped but at least the clingy feeling of wet fabric was over. He sneaked his hand inside the covers, slowly searching for cold fingers and entwined his own with them. He suddenly felt a bit warmer._

_Consciousness started to fail him once again but this time he could actually succumb to darkness without worrying of drowning. Right before letting himself go, he felt a blanket being placed over him and a distant pull against his cheek as clean gauze was being settled over it. After that, nothing mattered but the small point of contact of fingers between fingers and the knowledge that with a bit of luck, at least one of them could make it out of this, and he desperately hoped it would be_ him.

****************

Will woke up with a headache. The dreams of the previous night had been particularly vivid and hadn’t helped diminishing the turmoil of emotions inside him. He needed some time to think.

He exited his room quietly and spared a quick glance to the end of the hall where Hannibal’s room was situated. The door was closed, which made Will’s breathing a little less laboured. He then made his way downstairs. Once in the kitchen, he grabbed his fishing equipment and exited through the back door as silently as possible.

The cool air of the woods cleared Will’s head admirably quickly. Suddenly, the nightmares seemed a lot less frightening. His dream had been a reconstruction of the fundamental aspects of the night at the cliff, the escape, the aftermath, but what caught his attention the most was that he had been okay with it.

Every time he looked back on that night while conscious, all he could see was the blood and the madness, yet that dream had reminded him of the beauty and the hope, the protectiveness. Every fibre of his being had made a choice that for some reason –that seemed pretty inconsequential at the moment- he questioned, but didn’t regret.

Hannibal was a killer and so was he. There was no point in denying it, especially when there was such a good reason to recognise it. When Will jumped off that cliff, he knew there was no turning back, and so did he when saving Hannibal.

_But do you ache for him?_

Will swallowed the knot in his throat and kept walking. He expected to have the deeper part of the stream all to himself but he stopped on his tracks when he descried a human figure by the shore. Will lowered himself and trod carefully towards the mysterious man.

It took him only a few more seconds to realise that it was Hannibal who was standing by the stream, his back to Will and his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Will couldn’t help but recognise that everything Hannibal wore suited him, and regardless if it was part of his disguise, he knew exactly how to exploit his physical appearance.

Slowly but surely, Will approached the stream, placing his equipment down. Even as he set everything properly, Hannibal didn’t turn to look at him. Will then started approaching him until he positioned himself right on the line of Hannibal’s peripheral vision.

“It’s a good day for fishing”, he started, pointing at the stream with a gesture of his chin.

Hannibal’s response took so long that for a moment Will thought he hadn’t spoken loud enough.

“Good day indeed”.

“Ever tried fishing?” continued Will, still unable to read Hannibal’s expression but knowing that the lack of eye contact spoke enough.

“It was never one of my interests”.

“How do you know if you haven’t tried it?”

Hannibal glanced sideways at Will and he took that as his cue to come closer.

“Here”, he said, positioning himself right behind Hannibal and placing the rod in his hands, not letting go of them. Hannibal stiffened under his touch but didn’t push him away.

“The basic cast is pretty easy. You’re supposed to achieve a whip-like movement by bending the rod backwards and then forwards, a small pause between each movement. You have to start low, aligning the rod with your forearm so its path is as straight as possible”.

Will’s hand travelled from Hannibal’s wrist to his forearm and back, exemplifying his words. Then he pressed himself more tightly against the taller man’s back, head resting on his right shoulder.

“Your thumb goes here”, he indicated while fixing Hannibal’s hand. “Now up, back, quick stop, forward, stop and down”.

The rod followed the movement in a tight line. Will guided Hannibal’s arm once again before letting go of it so he could try on his own, body still pressed against the other. Hannibal did and managed a cast just as precise, making Will raise his eyebrows in amazement.

“Not bad at all for a first try. Is there anything you don’t excel at?” That earned him Hannibal’s customary press of lips that equalled an eye-roll for normal people. “Come on, try again”.

The second cast was as good as the first. Will smiled as he let his left hand rest over Hannibal’s hip and rejoiced in the proximity. He could definitely get used to this.

***********************

They returned to the cabin before the sunset. Hannibal cooked for the both of them and they consumed their food in companionable silence. Words unsaid floated between them but neither tried to force them out, both settling for bits of small talk instead.

Once they had finished, they headed to the sitting room, each occupying their respective armchairs. Will was pondering a way to bring the subject up when Hannibal’s voice interrupted him.

“So that’s where you’ve been all these days, fishing by the stream”.

“Most of them, yes, but I hadn’t fished until today”.

Hannibal raised a sceptical brow. “Then you spent almost the entirety of days wondering in the woods”.

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement, one that annoyed Will particularly, and although he didn’t initially intend to fight, he found it hard to contain his sarcasm.

“Sounds a bit hypocritical coming from someone who spends most of his own day in the kitchen”.

Hannibal’s face was suddenly tense. “You know why I stay in the kitchen, Will? Because it’s the only thing about my past life that I’d like to keep, besides from you. The rest I’ve already given up on, to as far an extent as my own nature has allowed me to”.

“I’ve had my fair share of losses, Hannibal. And they don’t only include a luxurious lifestyle”. _You play, you pay_. Bedelia’s words echoed inside Will’s mind. “But I made a choice and I’m ready to take responsibility for it”

“Taking responsibility is not the same as wanting it”

“It’s not because of the lifestyle that I’m in this”. Will’s eyes pierced into Hannibal’s and for a moment, all the hurt accumulated throughout the years surfaced and reflected in them. In a minute, it was gone, as well as Will’s capability to look Hannibal straight in the eye. “I guess it’s just strange to see the Chesapeake Ripper as what he ultimately is”.

“A monster?”

“A human”

Hannibal didn’t consider himself entirely human; he had fought all his life for avoiding that consideration as much as he could, seeking refuge in arts and fine pleasures, elevating himself above others with his methods, revelling on the profound and the unorthodox but ultimately unable to fully escape the inevitability of his own existence. Controlling impulses didn’t mean they completely disappeared and sentiment was a powerful drive.

He had never expected Will to see that far and he was as appalled as he was pleased. After working so hard on directing Will’s attention to discovering and embracing his own true nature, he had forgotten some of his could slip through the cracks as well, just as easily.

“The mathematics of human behaviour”, he mused, distantly.

“Mathematics indeed”, replied Will, standing up and walking towards Hannibal’s armchair as he would the day before, this time not trying to impose but to reassure. He crouched before Hannibal and looked him directly. “You threw everyone off because you didn’t kill for 18 months”.

Will’s words didn’t sound much as a scolding as they sounded fascinated, almost amused. Hannibal responded with an equally amused smile.

“My proclivities aren’t a compulsion, Will. I thought that much was clear”.

“It was; I just hadn’t seen it. Or rather, I didn’t want to see it”, Will admitted before sighing. “I want you to know why I changed my mind”.

Hannibal cocked his head to the side. “Will…”

“Please, hear me out”, he said. “All of my life I’ve been running away from my own mind and from people’s interest in it. There’d be no change in running away with you, except for the fact that I would have a purpose, a motivation. A fundamental reason”.

“Of course I didn’t have all of this worked out the night of the cliff. I did want us to die but it was in fear that no other moment would ever compare to that, that none would make me feel as alive and connected as I did at the time. And also…” Will had to stop for breath. “I was afraid you’d never look at me like that again, not without reproducing the circumstances”.

“I’m not as silly as to blind myself regarding who we are, Hannibal. And I’m also not blind enough to think we’d lead a normal life. But when I made the choice to save you, ‘normal’ wasn’t what I was looking for. In fact, it was a choice I didn’t have to make consciously; from the moment I hit the water, I was already looking for you. I understand that we can’t change. And now we don’t have to”.

The next move came naturally to Will. Hannibal’s lips were warm against his and Will let his hand rest on the other’s neck. It started timid, polite even, until Hannibal began to run his hands through Will’s hair and Will grabbed him by the shirt collar, letting his tongue intertwine with that of his former psychiatrist.

Then all the happiness, the suffering, the tension, the shared smiles, the bitterness, mixed together in that same kiss, one that spoke of confusing pasts and hopeful futures. If Will had needed another reason to affirm his choice, he had it right there in the form of a touch of lips, of deeper understanding and of blond hair and dark eyes that stared at him adoringly. He didn’t want Hannibal to change; he wanted him to stay.

“I’ve waited for the moment in which you’d want the whole of me, Will. It’s almost surreal to think that moment is finally here”, breathed Hannibal before kissing Will one more time.

Will couldn’t help the blush that rose to his cheeks when they both parted for breath. It was nice knowing what you wanted but it was equally important to know how to get it, and Will’s mind was already racing with questions. He then took a deep breath and sat on the floor by the lounger’s armrest, deciding to take it with humour.

“So what do we do? I’ve never actually been on the run”.

Hannibal half smiled. “We lay low”.

“For how long?” asked Will, a bit more desperately than he had intended to.

“Are you that enthusiastic to replicate the slaying of the Dragon?” Will huffed and Hannibal continued. “A few years won’t hurt. After all, there are lots of things to guarantee the delight of our senses in Europe. We’ll probably be busy enough with them”.

“Europe, really?” Hannibal looked incredulously at Will, head cocked to the side. Will smiled in return before explaining himself. “It’s just every time I imagined us and…Abigail, we were there, exploring bookstores and visiting museums. I guess it’s good that I know you so well”.

“I’ve never presumed to be outside of your gift’s range of action. But I also know it’s a knowledge that comes from within you”.

“We are alike”, whispered Will, before shifting to a more mundane subject. “Are we getting a dog?”

Hannibal hesitated. “If strictly necessary”.

“How would you determine what ‘strictly necessary’ means?”

“Only if the need arises; dogs draw attention”, explained Hannibal. “Unless…”

“Unless?” Will inquired.

“Unless it’s something you insist on”.

“Why, I do insist on it, Doctor Lecter”, said Will playfully, making the corners of Hannibal’s mouth quirk up.

“Very well, a dog it will be”, he stated as he got up from his armchair and headed towards the fireplace to light up some incense. “I’d just have one condition”.

Will raised his head to that, sceptical. “What condition?”

“I want to name it”.

Hannibal’s face gave nothing away, so Will went ahead and took the bait. “What would you name it, then?”

When he turned back, Hannibal’s expression was very serious. “Encephalitis”.

Will couldn’t believe what he was hearing but after a few seconds of shocked silence, he started laughing like he hadn’t in months. Hannibal responded with a wide smile and there was that look again, the one that implied Will was a work of art worthy of being admired. He wasn’t Jack’s precious and fragile teacup, or Alana’s subject of professional curiosity, not even Molly’s loving husband. Will was himself, with all his dents and creases, his empathy and his bloodlust. And there was not a single piece of it that Hannibal didn’t cherish.

************************

The midday light shone over the Norman chapel and penetrated through its windows, forming patterns on the floor. Candles flickered at the altar, creating outlines of their own. Few tourists marvelled at the construction while some parishioners prayed or simply sat there, aiming for a stronger connection with their God.

Two men sat quietly side by side. One of them was tall and subtly tanned, with high cheekbones and elegant lips; his hair reflected the light in golden tones as his eyes did in mahogany. He wore a light suit and appeared exotic somehow. The other one seemed younger if not for the light stubble that covered his jaw except for the spot in which the vestige of a relatively old scar peeked through. His hair was longer and fell in soft curls over his forehead, his darker suit contrasting with his pale skin. His eyes were closed, making his lashes stand out. Together, they could easily pass as one of the ethereal paintings that adorned the chapel’s walls. Slowly, the first one looked reverently at the other.

“You can’t imagine how many times I visited this chapel with you, in my mind palace”.

“I may have an idea if they approach to the number of times I hoped for this to come true”.

A subtle smile. “I could contemplate you forever like this: peaceful, contented, victorious”.

The younger one opened his eyes and looked back at the other with devotion. “You could draw me”.

“Perhaps another time. I rather enjoy now”.

A slight brush of hands was accompanied by another pair of smiles. Suddenly, a shadow clouded the face of the youngest.

“Do you think anyone has recognised us?”

“I don’t think anyone could”. Seriousness, reassurance. “And even if they do, let them come. I’ll fight my way out of this if I have to, only for the prospect of seeing you like this again”.

“Now you’re bluffing”, laughed the youngest quietly. “ _We_ would fight our way. Always”.

“Always”.

The youngest smiled before resting his head on the other’s shoulder. Beside them rested an italian newspaper which announced with big bold letters: _“_ _Is Il Mostro back?_ _”_

**Author's Note:**

> So that was it! I hope you enjoyed it and that I was able to nail the feeling you were looking for (: I made it from the bottom of my heart. I wish you the best not only for the holidays but also for the rest of the coming year and your life as a whole. Keep being passionate about what you love. Hugs to you!


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